


Struggle

by fish_wifey



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: College, Domestic, Kasamatsu struggling, Living Together, Lovenotes in lunch boxes, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Sexual Content, Moriyama helps out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasamatsu and Kise are students, both working, and have been together since their Kaijou time. They live together for a while now (because Kise and so-called 'boyfriend privileges'), and while Kasamatsu acts like this everyday life is a pain, he also yearns for it, and more.</p><p>This is basically the story of where Kasamatsu's struggles come to a head, Moriyama helps out, Kise is oblivious to anything special concerning his person is about to happen. Kasamatsu has a plan, and by the basketball gods, he will somehow ask for Kise's hand in marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struggle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrosCartographer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrosCartographer/gifts).



> ~*~it too real~*~ (sorry I couldn't help myself given the title;;;;)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH!!!! Congrats on making it to our 21st year alive without dying to your Aries antics! When I realized your birthday was coming up SUPER SOON I was troubled for like 5 seconds as to what to get for you in time (apart of the sweets I'm sending. one day. for sure). But then there was only ONE pairing that came to mind :'D and only ONE idea and setting, ahahaha. For the proposal fic specialist, only a proposal fic would do on your special day!!! Since you wrote [Kise proposing to Kasamatsu](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3239879) and because I like writing Kasamatsu (struggling) a lot more, here's to you! I hope you like it ;u;
> 
> The beginning and middle part are a little slow while the end moves a lot faster. I wanted to show Kasamatsu's character, his silent (scowling) and calculating manner, as well as his fast dribble style and such! I hope the pace is alright and enjoyable ;; Also idk but somehow?? I didn't write them having sex, just hinting to them being a little sex crazy (its all Kise, Kasamatsu says, but boy it takes two to tango). I still put the Mature on, because there's a small scene which _is_ mature :D
> 
> ANYWAY!!! I hope reading this will bring joy to you~

They say falling asleep and waking up next to your loved one is the ultimate bliss, or so someone crazy wanted him to believe. Yukio would like to argue it. One, ‘falling asleep’ next to Kise Ryouta was a feat of itself. This kid turning 19, arriving with a suitcase, a smile and a ‘you never gave me a key so I thought I might as well take the initiative’ had ensured that Yukio wouldn’t go to bed with any intention of sleeping on most nights. More often than not, Ryouta would make use of his ‘privilege’ of either cuddling, good night kisses that lasted minutes, or tiring sex that tended to be more like workouts. The latter was mostly Yukio’s fault, who never backed down from a stamina challenge. 

And that was if Ryouta would let them get to bed, even. Sometimes Yukio had to carry a boneless heap of smiling bliss to or from a couch, or they’d fall asleep beneath the kotatsu. One thing Ryouta gave him for sure was having back problems at the age of 22. He could have thrown the door into Ryouta’s face back then (unhinging it and literally throw it), but as much as he wanted to, Yukio never learned to tell this confident smiling bastard ‘no’. 

Which is why it came to the wonderful position of opening his eyes and making Ryouta the first thing he sees every morning. Waking up next to your beloved one should hold some sort of relaxing state, but all it did for Yukio was making him grumpy. He wasn’t a morning person to begin with (polar opposites of course with the sunshine child softly snoring next to him), and couldn’t be called ‘approachable’ before his first coffee. Maybe he should think setting up an apparatus for that right next to his bed. 

None of this changed the matter at hand, or ‘on’ hand, as Yukio’s hand was becoming stiff and numb under Ryouta’s head. Who knew that airheads had actually brain matter and weight underneath their skulls!?

Sighing, Yukio closes his eyes, not even trying to get his hand back from where Ryouta is using it as a small pillow. He had tried and failed in the most horrible ways in the past and learned from it. Best would be to wait and use an opening granted by Ryouta’s dog-like inability to stay still when he sleeps. Normal people would have one sleeping position, but Ryouta switches sides, left, right, goes on his back, on his stomach, and moves all limbs. One time, Yukio had the lovely sight of Ryouta’s feet to wake up to, because the idiot had turned his whole body in his sleep. Yukio would never forget the constricting arms around his calves, or the drool on his ankles.

Opening his eyes once more, Yukio admires the sleeping beauty for a lot of these crazy feats. At least he didn’t kick him in the stomach anymore. On Ryouta’s first night here after his ‘move in’ coupe, he’d been too nervous for words. Yukio had bruises on his legs and even on his hips from where Ryouta’s sleep attacks had given him the smallest of battle bruising. 

Nowadays, Yukio would let him hug and cuddle them to sleep. It didn’t take much effort to embrace Ryouta and kiss his forehead, or letting those talented arms snake below his arms. Take it as it is, Yukio tends to become weak after sex, his limbs heavy, his head tired, and his heart full of love and gratitude. He craved to have Ryouta in any way, and wasn’t able to just turn around and go to sleep once they’re done doing the deed. Making sure to give Ryouta exasperated glares, he’d call him over into his arms, and letting the happiest smile ever made kiss his sweaty chest. They somehow coordinated their legs too. However, with the moving of the beast, Ryouta would hardly ever end up in the same position in which he fell asleep. 

Yukio’s fingers moved beneath Ryouta’s ear, trying to scratch him into movement. His hand was given the tingling treatment from the numbness, and he couldn’t avoid becoming impatient. Brows knitting together, he sighs once more, moving his elbow. Ryouta’s still asleep, doofy face shows no sign of waking anytime soon. 

The struggle continued for another half minute. Yukio’s expression became sour when his hand isn’t released by how little he tries, and he thumps his head on the pillow beneath his right ear as he looks up to the person who keeps stealing everything from him with such ease. 

Jaw hard, Yukio curses the soft blond, perfect hair, the perfect lids below the relaxed and perfectly trimmed eyebrows. Staring at the lips is the biggest mistake he can make, but it's hard to look elsewhere when his eyes catch the adorable sleepy pout. Ryouta, too perfect for words, still modeling to make extra money and pay his dues, doesn’t drool of course. Even then, Yukio couldn’t have used force to get a part of his body back from beneath the small weight. It’s one of the instances where he understands what true love means, and it makes the tug in his heart all the more noticeable. It’s so damn confusing and persistent, and Yukio knows he’s inching his body forward to where Ryouta sleeps, wondering if today could be the day he’d ask-

“Fufufu, senpai is staring at me, totally in love!” Ryouta grins, opening his right eye to look and beam his happiness of catching Yukio in the end. The last straw being reached, Yukio takes his free hand, which lay on Ryouta’s midriff, and shoves Ryouta’s face off his hand.

“Stupid, I wasn’t watching you at all. I’m annoyed, y’know.” Yukio has no time to turn away or get up. Ryouta has always been fast, on the basketball court as well as in the bedroom (not that a bedroom was specifically needed…). His arms capture Yukio’s torso with ease, and he straight up headbutts himself into Yukio’s chest. It takes some air from Yukio, who feels a vein pop in his forehead.

“Asshole, that hurt! Get off me, goddammit.”

“Love hurts, and only a loved one can heal the wounds~!” Ryouta smiles, kissing the place he hit Yukio, who still tries to get away from him without falling off the bed. This has happened before, and he wouldn’t like to repeat the idiotic drop. Instead, he knocks his fist light on Ryouta’s head, calling him names under his breath. Ryouta is too warm, too sunny, too freaking good to stay mad at for long. It’s not just the sleeping patterns (if any exist) or the constant kiss attacks and long sex sessions. Nor is it the incapability to stay still during sleep; Yukio can’t help but being grumpy at the fact that he can’t put any force against Ryouta anymore, and becomes a mushy puddle of subdued happiness, hidden behind a grumpy grimace.

“There’s a lot to heal if you don’t let me go right now.” Yukio grunts, yet it lacks all sort of attitude. His arms go around Ryouta, as if it's the only thing left to do. Hold on and keep grumbling. For a moment he thinks he can lay his head down on the pillow and not mind it at all. That is, until Ryouta’s hands trail down Yukio’s spine, lower and lower.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, brat?” Yukio stiffens when Ryouta’s hands tug at the waistband of his boxershorts. Yesterday he remembered to pick them off the ground and put them on, while Ryouta never bothered to get dressed post sex. Having the long fingers trail down there is weird, since Ryouta doesn’t go for his ass usually, not even to tease.

“Undressing, obviously. How else will I have senpai naked on top of me?”

“Not at all!? Sheesh we did it yesterday night, remember?”

Ryouta kisses his way over Yukio’s throat, humming in thought as if he can’t recall it. He licks here and there, kissing Yukio beneath the jaw and sucks in the smallest patch of skin.

“Christ, I also told you not to leave marks…”

“I would like if the people in senpai’s class know you’re taken.”

“I tell them if they’d ask?” Yukio looks straight forward, his chin perching back on Ryouta’s head and making the airhead lower himself, disabling the attack on his throat. The whining starts all anew, as if they hadn’t had this particular argument before. 

“But Yukio-senpai, you also bite and mark me! Look!” Ryouta moves away, lifting the blanket under which they cover their bodies between the change of seasons, from Winter to Spring. Yukio keeps staring ahead, acts out his known part in not knowing or seeing where Ryouta points at this time. He never knew he had a thing for biting, until one of the first times he took Ryouta from behind, and bit his shoulder when he came. Back then it had been an embarrassing moment for which Yukio apologized, until Ryouta told him he had liked the marks a lot. 

“Can’t remember. It happens without me thinking, okay!? Hey!” Next thing Yukio knows, Ryouta’s hand travels from his hip below his shorts, stroking him. “What did I just say about this!?” 

“Seeenpaaai! So strict in the mornings. This is to wake you up y’know- ah, I think you have been awakened.” Ryouta interrupts himself and looks down, as if he found a new species of life. Meanwhile, Yukio sighs for the third time wishing this wouldn’t happen at least once a week. How the hell is waking up next to your beloved a blissful experience? And he had been close to asking a particular question, too.

“Not in the mood, nor do we have the time.” His low voice rumbles, trying to get Ryouta’s agile fingers off his body. The sunshine boy in front of him doesn’t think ‘time’ is an argument to be presented.

“It’s Sunday, senpai.”

“I’m doing an extra shift, which _I told you_ yesterday.” Yukio sits up, effectively pushing Ryouta’s hand off his person at last. Ryouta sits up next to him, enacting the epitome of a puppy tilting his head at a new, weird sound.

“No, you didn’t? You’re doing all kinds of extra stuff on the side. I’d remember that. ”

Yukio slaps a hand over his face, trying to find his patience. It’s not the first time something he said went over Ryouta’s head completely. The fault may lay with Yukio, who could blame himself for the timing of when he tells Ryouta important matters, which caused this effect. “Maybe if you’d listened to me more, you would. Look, I told you when you wanted to go for round two-”

“Wasn’t it round three? 69 counts as one round, even if only one person comes.” Ryouta says it light enough to hide his triumph of making Yukio the first to come when they did that particular position. Because Yukio doesn’t care right now, and because it’s always a pleasure one way or the other, he lets the light undertone slide.

“-fine, alright. I said I was filling in for a mate and couldn’t go all night. And hey, you just remembered I said something at one point, didn’t you?” Yukio looks at Ryouta between his fingers, who calms down a little and ducks under his arm, pressing his athletic body against Yukio’s side, unwilling to let him go out of bed just now. The pout Ryouta performs etches between the line of Yukio’s pecs, which creates another tug on his heart.

“Maaaybe. It wasn’t about us having sex so I didn’t dwell on it. And don’t change subjects. Lately you’ve been doing a lot of extra shifts, or staying late to close the warehouse. Are the other guys just lazy or what?” Ryouta had voiced his dislike of Yukio working later than he did; while Ryouta’s job for a modeling studio or his even smaller sidejob in a café required him on weekdays to work before uni and a little after, Yukio’s work was in the warehouse of a department store, forklifting heavy packages from one side to the other. It was tougher work which could go on throughout the evening and late at night. All this time, Ryouta had only come late from his own modeling job once, coming with flowers and a hundred apologies.

“No, my co-workers just don’t care about doing overtime and getting extra cash. They’re all nagged on by their girlfriends or something.” Yukio says in a matter of off-hand explanation, while he also understands that Ryouta is, in his own right, a nagging boyfriend who wants him home more often. That feeling translates itself when Ryouta sighs on Yukio’s chest, before cheekbutting himself on Yukio’s shoulder to look at him. 

“Obviously! And they all listen to their girlfriends, ‘cept you.”

Yukio doesn’t sigh this time, trying to calm Ryouta down instead by putting his palm in the perfect fit that is Ryouta’s shoulder. It’s much harder and angular than a girl’s would be.

“No, cause I don’t have a girlfriend, remember?”

“I still should have the same status and rights as they have.” Ryouta pouts, but sees himself defeated. He moves himself off his butt and then sits on top of Yukio. While the movement usually includes a semi-lapdance going into seducing territory, Ryouta keeps himself in check and does nothing indecent, even though he’s naked and barely covered by the sheets anymore. “Yes yes, okay. You work today… _extra_ for reasons you don’t wish to share! We still have time to breakfast together, right? Or else there will be consequences.”

Ryouta leaves the bed like that, without waiting for Yukio’s reply. He walks out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, naked, in order to make an attempt at breakfast, and a lunch bento as well. For reasons unknown, Ryouta’s lunch boxes are exquisite, while his breakfast-making leaves much to ask for. Yukio watches him leave, knowing quite well that the naked backside is a tease and a ‘this is what you could have had, senpai’ message. Killing his urges, Yukio slides back under the covers of a bed which got a little colder just now.

It’s bitter, but it has to be done. Yukio slides his arm over his eyes, glad he’s dodged the questioning bullettrain Ryouta can become. There’s a reason he’s been working more in the past few months, but there’s no way he could spill the secret just yet, even if watching his sleeping boyfriend nearly drove him to the edge. He has to patient.

After all, proposing should be a surprise, he’s been told. 

*~*~*

Work is strenuous. It’s the same thing all day, every day. Get into the forklift, make it go to a box, move the box, and put it down elsewhere, repeat. On most days, Yukio does this on automatic, the mindless back and forth of a hundred useless, unnecessary things people wish to buy and have to be restocked. The cheaper the shit is, the better and the more Yukio has to shove boxes this way and that way. On days like today, he helps the department store to unbox and bring heavier things into the store, which often takes an extra hour he can get paid for.

This Sunday is no different. Spring is coming and people need blankets, baskets, and what not, to enjoy their cherry-blossom viewing. Yukio watches the onslaught of both hasty and slow shoppers, while he carries a box through the pristine white halls of the upper level. He’s been working for the past four hours and sweats a lot, the grime collecting at places he can’t wait to clean off later. Feeling out of place, he’s glad no one looks at him, as he follows the department clerk in front of him. She herself of course lifts nothing, as she has to stay in tip top state for the customers. 

“Please put them here, Kasamatsu-kun.” She says, her finger pointing somewhere while her head goes into the other direction. Yukio puts the box down, pulls his dirtied black gloves off, and puts a clean pair of white on when he takes the heavy-duty samurai dolls out of the boxes. For such plump, cute little things, they’re surprisingly heavy. The department clerk calls her army of sellers, who take the ceramic dolls with two people, and put them in their respective places.

Just another batch of 10 boxes to go. Yukio leaves without a word, knowing what to do, and which routes to take. He takes a lift for workers which brings him back to the basement, empty of any form of life as he’s the only one on duty. His boss is in his office, and will only call out to him when he can eat his lunch. On a lot of days when everyone is here, Yukio’s lunch is the center of attention, accumulating the combined envious and amazed reactions of his coworkers. Most of them buy lunch or make it themselves, as their girlfriends also have jobs and have no time to make them a bento.

Well a lot of ingredients are things Yukio cooked himself, but Ryouta somehow manages to bring left-overs from the café he works at. On top of that, he always arranges Yukio's bento in a fanciful way, adding expensive side dishes. Once, Yukio opened his lunchbox to reveal an impressive centerpiece of tempura-fried shrimps, formed as a basketball, with black beans as the lineart. 

Then there were days where Ryouta would be mad at him, and the revenge would find itself in Yukio’s bento, making him the laughingstock. Yukio remembers those lunches with a grudge (which he always paid back), and readies himself for the worst. His stomach grumbles, and he can’t hold off or change whatever is hiding beneath the wrapped bento, which is still a menacing presence in his locker. Even if his lunch only contains rice and a plum at first sight, Ryouta would put meat on the bottom, hidden away. 

Arriving back into the basement, Yukio exchanges his worker’s gloves once more, and lifts the ceramic monsters to bring them upstairs. Just another duty he repeats without thinking, like a mindless drone. 

Once the last round is done, Yukio receives a message from his boss as he walks back to the lift. He’s not allowed to have his personal phone on him during work times, but he has to be always reachable on his work phone. He checks the message notifying him he can lunch once he’s done, and that his boss ends his own shift early, knowing Yukio can work alone and finish properly. 

Putting the device away, Yukio feels an urge to check his own phone. Ryouta, if he’d send any message at all when he’s sulking, would often send him erotic images to tease. It creates this unknown, unwanted desire inside of Yukio, wishing to go home early and ravish him with revenge hickeys and breathless kisses. The mere thought of what could await him, both in the inbox of his phone and the bento box, has Yukio punching the button of the lift to take him downstairs.

 

His lunch turns out to be pretty decent. Ryouta even left a note, which Yukio told him a hundred times not to. His coworkers had this nasty habit of wanting to read anything alluding to his love life. It wasn’t just because he was in a relationship with Ryouta that he kept it mostly secret; Yukio was a private person, and didn’t feel much for telling about his private life in general. 

Stuffing his face with rice and beef, he folds the piece of paper open, reading the neat message Ryouta left him.

_”Although I don’t like it that you work on days where we’re supposed to both have free time and hang out, I don’t want to be like those ‘nagging girlfriends’ that only cause grief and trouble. If senpai has his reasons to make a lot of money (which hopefully will be spent on dinners and gifts!), I can’t argue with him… Just know that I will be lonely! And restless!! And maybe take a hot shower thinking of you…!!!”_

Yukio hides his reddened face in his hand. This is the exact reason love notes should be prohibited! Also, the images in his head are no help at all, and Yukio tells his twitching bulge to knock it off. Once he’s calm again, he continues reading.

_”Anyway, you work a lot, and need proper sustenance. So instead of the leftover natto which you hate, I piled a lot of beef and green veggies in today’s lunch. I hope it replenishes your strength, which will make you work better and faster, and bring you back to me as soon as possible.”_

“Impatient little brat,” Yukio laughs, rubbing his neck. It’s just too sweet, seriously.

_”So, do your best today too, okay? And leave dinner to me. I’m thinking about making sushi, and lay it on my naked body to have you consume a dinner the best way possible,-”_

“Jesus Christ, Kise!” Yukio hides himself once more, his whole body reacting to the images in his head. He ought to call Ryouta and yell at him, but lord knows it would only end in phone sex for which Yukio doesn’t want to make time. He could do it, yes, but he’d rather finish work as quick as he can and get home to give the bastard a taste of his knuckles on the blond head. And make that head go someplace else as well.

_”-what else could a man wish for! But who knows (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ Ehehe, don’t be mad for this erotic message, ne~!”_

The note was signed with Ryouta’s name, surrounded by sparkles, hearts, and goddamn blushing sushi pieces. Yukio would have liked to crumple and burn the message, but he’d never was able to do something like that. In fact, some note he kept, for when work got hard or he missed Ryouta too much. There was even one lengthy, über-erotic letter Yukio kept in a dark corner of his locker, just in case he would be overcome with want but stuck here a long time. 

He was about to fold the paper and finish eating his lunch, when under the idiotic ending of the note, he saw a few more scribbles. His thumb straightens the paper out, eyes glancing over the last sentences.

_”ps. Please forgive me for being so pouty this morning. If all goes to plan, I give you this bento without a kiss and tell you to have a horrible day at work missing me. I hope you understand that I’m only being this way because I miss you even more, and I love you so much.”_

Yukio stares at the last words. It was true; when he left the house saying good bye, Ryouta had looked to a spot next to the door, holding out the bento in a wrap of pink colouring Yukio disliked for the obvious reasons. Ryouta might be man enough to walk around with pink stuff, but Yukio wasn’t on that level yet. Usually, when they say good bye, Ryouta initiates a kiss, or Yukio puts a quick peck to his cheek. This morning there was only a cold shoulder, and Yukio knew he’d fucked up. 

_”I love you so much.”_ It didn’t help reading this. Yukio’s chest ached in all the wrong ways. As a countermeasure, he gobbled down his food, only making sure to chew so he wouldn’t choke and die here. He got to work, trying not to be a robot about it and be quicker about the whole procedure. 

The note he kept in his chest pocket, making it burn there with a rekindled desire. He did all this for a reason, and once he could buy the rings, Ryouta would understand. 

*~*~*

The note transfers to Yukio’s jeans pockets at exactly 17:12, when he’s done working. An hour and a half before he thought he’d finish, and a total 48 minutes to spare and lure around the department store. He’s not one to go shopping often, and in the last year, Ryouta dragged him out a lot more. Even during their high school days, Ryouta managed to take Yukio by the arm sleeve (and later, hand), and make him go shopping. Yukio remembers the countless time he was cursing and pushed against his will, and he laughs inside the lift going up. It took him so long to figure out why Ryouta wanted to hang out, have him treat him post-shopping tours, even managed to get Yukio to step inside the changing rooms and approve of a specific outfit. Somehow it hadn’t been obvious enough that Ryouta insisted of it being just them two.

One of such times, Ryouta had stood there half naked, in a pair of open black slacks, a hand in front of his chest. Yukio had wanted to punch him for the prank, but something in Ryouta’s eyes had changed in such drastic and sudden obvious manners that Yukio had stood still. The kiss that had followed was feather light, and so quick coming from a nervous Ryouta, who had missed the mouth completely. 

That day, Ryouta had been ready for anything, from a punch to hatred to rejection to being ignored. What neither of them thought would be possible, happened instead, and Yukio had grumbled that Ryouta should at least try and kiss him properly. It was one of those times that there was a tug in his heart, one Yukio hadn’t been able to explain until that first non-kiss, the failed attempt from the most confident people Yukio knew. Ryouta never seemed to have much trouble in love, but the earnest, shivering, scared brat of that day still came to Yukio’s memory. It didn’t matter if he understood it, or any, or none at all. That little pain in his heart had been reason enough to listen to his emotions and respond. 

He makes sure not to fall out of the lift when he exits, remembering that second, longer kiss. He’d accepted what Ryouta wanted without a word or confession exchanged, and stopped to dislike the many outings that followed as they had the whole hue of ‘we’re boyfriends now and have to date a lot’. Even when Yukio went to university, they didn’t have to speak about how they would keep up the relationship. For Yukio, there wasn’t anyone beside Ryouta to be interested in, and that they’d keep being boyfriends was a given fact. Again, Ryouta’s confidence had seemed to be superficial and easily broken, and he had worried a lot until Yukio kissed him on his last day at Kaijou. ‘There’s only you, brat. If I like it or not.’ For once he had felt cool in their young relationship.

As Yukio hadn’t been mindless during his last hours of work, he got to this specific place without thinking. Or maybe thinking about his relationship with Ryouta had brought him here. In the beginning, he couldn’t come close to this sparkly place that smelled like money only from afar, unable to actually make his legs move and his eyes look around. But since his resolve deepened, Yukio had made himself investigate. Now he went to the counter without much fright, and glared at the two bands below the glass. 

He’d always thought two normal gold bands would do, but once he’s seen this pair, he knew nothing else would do for Ryouta. Something extraordinary for an extraordinary man.

“Hello, Kasamatsu! Came to look once more?” Moriyama’s cheerful voice reaches Yukio’s thoughts. He looks down to the guy currently leaning on the glass counter, grinning as if he had been there all the time, while he actually just slid over. It had been Moriyama who helped Yukio get this job, knowing it would suit him, and then nudged Ryouta to a café with good hours and pay. They never have the same break hours, given to the fact that Yukio, in his first week on the job and on his first break with Moriyama, smashed a baseball from the sports area off Moriyama’s face when their section chiefs were nearby. 

Most of Moriyama’s colleagues left Yukio alone when he came to look, knowing he was a mere lurker who worked in the warehouse below. In the beginning he was given fake smiles whenever he came around. Moriyama, although he had strict orders not to bother Yukio and cause a ruckus, was obviously much kinder. They always kept a good post-Kaijou friendship, and met up from time to time outside of work.

“It’s the blue ones, right? You always look at those.” He says, opening up the glass from his side and pulling the wedding rings out. 

“N-no, I was just- it’s nothing. You don’t have to-”

“Shush! I know my clients, and I know you better than any of these shoppers. You’re the type who knows what he wants, and isn’t picky. You have your eyes on these ones only.” Moriyama shoves the wedding rings over to Yukio, his clean fingernails leaving the flat, dark velvet display which keeps them upright. “24 karat bands, a clutter of Blue Spinel gems for her, a single Blue Spinel diamond for him in the middle. Very nice choice. Most of my customers go for sapphire.”

“Hmm, I know nothing about that… I just, like the blue colour.” They grin at each other, knowing exactly why the colour blue would be a thing. Yukio looks away from them, hands shoved in his pockets. He knows how much they cost, and he’s so close to being able to buy them. He hadn’t spend his money on anything else since he knew he wanted to be with Ryouta, elevate them from boyfriend status to something shinier. 

“I’d never thought you’d have the taste to select pretty things. By the way, did you know I can make two male rings? It’s no problem at all, as long as I know the ring finger measurements-”

“H-heh, what!?” Yukio sputters, without Moriyama batting an eyelash. 

“And I’m sure Kise, being the more exuberant of you two, would like to keep the clutter of gems on one ring.” He smiles to him, as if there was nothing wrong in the words he just said. Well, in Yukio’s opinion of course, there wasn’t anything wrong. But how did Moriyama know!? And since when?

“E-eh, why the hell, Moriyama? I never said anything about having a- someone, and-”

“So you’re just looking at wedding rings because they’re pretty?”

“No, I-”

“And you always steer Kise-kun away from our jewelry section, too. Whenever you visit together with him, do you think I don’t notice how you make him stay clear from this part? It’s quite obvious, I’ll have you know.” Moriyama stands up in his full height, pouting as if he’s been labeled stupid by Yukio’s sputtering, who rubs the back of his neck. In no way they’d be obvious, for sure, he always was carefull…

“I mean, I knew you liked him a lot, and you spend an awful lot of time together in the last three months before you graduated. I never said a thing because I guessed you wouldn’t want to talk about it, since you’re super shy. Kise was damn easy to decipher. He was so obvious before you two went out. Anyone who would look at him when he looked at you would notice. It surprises me that he got a lot better at hiding it nowadays, huh.” Moriyama looks at Yukio, not being gentle or careful in his words. Then he seems to remember something rather important.

“Oh, and I can use my special rate card! But shhh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone, okay? I’m not supposed to use it for friends.” Moriyama bows over the counter to whisper at Yukio, who can’t help but having red ears from being found out. There’s little time to worry about that stuff right now. And in any case, he feels rather unburdened. Still-

“Oi, don’t switch the subjects here. Just- you can’t possible tell that I’m-”

“I _told_ you, I can! I know my customers. It’s not uncommon to have same sex couples come here and beat around the bush and whatnot, asking for single wedding rings of the same sort. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror when you are with Kise by the way? Remember when we went out drinking and Kise got all gooey and heart-eyed at you? Seriously, you aren’t much better. It’s so obvious how much you love him!” Moriyama whispers, then smiles, taking the rings back. “Make sure to get at least to a- oh wait, let me calculate and write it down for you.”

He did so, and the piece of paper with the numbers made Yukio a little dizzy. He knew the rings were expensive, much more since he wanted a pair with gems. Nonetheless, he had worked a ton and saved up, and the money he saved so far was crazy close to the price Moriyama just wrote down.

“Much more affordable, right? You only have to give me Kise’s ring size, and I can make the top secret order. Don’t sweat the small stuff, okay?”

“Uh, sure. Hey, thanks.” Yukio calms down at last, glancing at Moriyama who can’t stop grinning. “Can I ask why you are so concerned?”

Moriyama brushes his hair and tilts his head back in his signature move. “I chose this work because I believe in love, and I am a hopeless romantic. Having found the love of my life, and being so happy to live with her every day… I’d only wish everyone could be as happy as I am. Marriage is one of the most beautiful things in life. Ah, I guess you could call it a job deficiency, huh.” He rubs the back of his head and winks at Yukio, to which the latter can merely give a soft smile back. Everyone from the Kaijou regulars had said that Moriyama would marry the first girl he saw, if only she would show any sort of interest in him before she would get to know him and be able to run away. 

Fact was, they all were happy for him, and the wedding had been great. Yamashita Keiko had been a super sweet girl, and no one made any jokes about Moriyama when his fresh bride was around. Moriyama still made time for his friends, and nowadays busied himself to hook Kobori up as well, to make his ‘husband’ club. 

“Guess so.” Yukio watches him put the rings back. Maybe once he asked Ryouta… he should tell the rest as well. Kobori and Shinja were cool, understanding people. Hayakawa was a nuisance, but had matured in his time as Kaijou captain. Nowadays he spoke a lot clearer now, too. 

Moriyama gives him another gentle smile, and then his attention shifts to actual shoppers nearing the counter. He waves at Yukio quickly and gives him the ‘Okay!’ sign, then goes back to his work.

Yukio leaves the department store out of the worker’s entrance, and can’t help but feel good about life. Somehow, things fall into place better than he expected. He reads a message Moriyama sneaked during his last working minutes, inviting him and Ryouta for dinner once he asked him. ‘And then we should have drinks with the old team!’ Allowing himself to smile all the way back home, Yukio doesn’t even try to wipe it off his face.

 

It’s when he fumbles for his keys that the greatest flaw in his plan makes itself known. Getting his finger in the metal round of his keychain, he holds it up, staring at his finger through that hole. _’It’s no problem at all, as long as I know the ring finger measurements.’_

How in the world will he be able to know Ryouta’s ring finger size?

*~*~* 

It seems so easy. Yukio tries measuring the size with his eyes first, but soon drops the idea. Buying a ring Moriyama puts his job on the line for to get and then having to return it would be too disrespectful for words. 

In the days after, Yukio walks around with a size chart he printed online and cut out in secret, and fails to find an opening to use it. It’s harder than it looks, and putting his own fingers around the blond’s during sex ends up being a disaster. Ryouta’s hands are always moving, always distracting Yukio, who loses his patience. Once, he’s asking Ryouta if he even wears rings often, and the answer turns out that it’s for shoots only. 

“I never wanted any for myself, because I would have to take them off during basketball practice anyway.” Ryouta says, eating his breakfast. He doesn’t notice Yukio’s scowl, who directs his glare at his coffee. In such a way does the week go by without him gathering any sort of knowledge, and he quickly becomes the source of Moriyama’s amusement. His old teammate started to ask about it of course, and every day that Yukio’s silence answers the question ‘And, what is it?’, burdens him more and more. 

At last, he has to make the night his friend.

To do things in a sneaky way isn’t exactly Yukio’s style, but coming outright saying what he needs to know can’t be the path either. It takes courage to ask Moriyama for help, too. Nonetheless, a week full of failure later, Yukio finds himself in the darkness of their bedroom. He’s holding a small chart with round holes, a proper one Moriyama uses at work, which is supposed to be a better measure to figure out Ryouta’s ring size. 

The man himself is vast asleep and snoring.

Taking a deep breath, Yukio holds it when he bends down and takes Ryouta’s hand as careful as possible. Waking him up right now is the worst he could do. Concentrating on gentleness, Yukio takes the finger on which he wants to see a wedding ring on, and holds it away from the limp hand. As if being a doctor at work, he pulls the finger through the different sized holes. One after the other, until he finds the one that isn’t too big and doesn’t rip either. He marks the size, then puts the chart in the pocket of his sweatpants.

Yukio gets as far as halfway round their bed when a voice calls out to him.

“Uh, Yukio-senpai… what are you doing this late..?” Ryouta rises from his sleep, his eyes more closed than open. They have no focus, even less so in the night. Yukio can see it clearly, his eyes grown accustomed to the darkness in which he just operated. This sneaking around is nothing for Yukio, who walks to his own side of the mattress fast. 

“I came home to your loud snoring, idiot. Pinched your nose, that’s all.” On the other side of their bed, Yukio undresses, careful to fold his sweatpants right. The chart must remain unseen. Behind him, Ryouta wakes up, dragging his body to the side where Yukio is standing. It calls for dirty tactics. Yukio doesn’t think much about it, and simply undresses himself until he’s naked, then slides under the blanket and pulls Ryouta close to him.

The smile shines in the darkness, as bright as if light was hitting Ryouta’s hair and make a human light bulb. Sleepy still, Ryouta cuddles into Yukio’s chest, kissing it here and there. It wasn’t exactly Yukio’s plan to give himself a sleepless night; however, if he does his best for it, he could tire Ryouta out and have him go to sleep soon after. As such, he lets his hands roam beneath Ryouta’s shirt, riding it up to the shoulder blades, then goes down to the waistband of the underwear he’s wearing. 

The kiss turns to be very lazy and slow because of Ryouta’s half-awake state. He barely puts any pressure on Yukio’s mouth, intending to be pleasured more and taken care off than doing anything himself. Yukio doesn’t mind when he slips his lower body between Ryouta’s legs, letting his lips suck at Ryouta’s nipple. It’s not routined when they work together like a machine; the sense of being together for such a long time that you don’t have to speak or even look at each other and still know what the other wants, riles them up to move on instinct only. Ryouta widens his legs and hands Yukio a small tube, his smile turned to the ceiling when he relaxes into the pillows.

Ryouta’s sigh is heavy when Yukio kisses his chest and let’s his lubed fingers enter the tight entrance. He’s hardly tense when Yukio works him open, his moans mere whispers. Yukio turns his focus to pleasure his love and make him fall asleep soon after, while the thought of the ring size chart flurries around in the back of his head.

When he enters Ryouta, he makes sure to stroke his blond hair and keep eye contact, mouthing sweet nothings on the brat’s smiling lips.

“I love you… a lot. Ryouta.”

“Keh, I know that well enough, Yukio-senpai.”

*~*~*

Two weeks go by. It feels like an anticlimax. The days go by as if nothing is happening or is bound to happen. Moriyama ordered the rings and gave them to Yukio last weekend, who has been walking around with a blue, velvet box ever since. Ever since Moriyama handed it to him, the heaviness of it hadn’t come off one bit. There’s just one thing left to do, and Yukio has been racking his brain as to how and where he should ask Ryouta the question of a lifetime. 

He wasn’t the romantic type. Going out for dinner would be too suspicious, and Ryouta would know something was off. Yukio had thought proposing on a basketball court would be fitting, but Moriyama had crushed the idea, no hesitation. A whole week long, everywhere Yukio turned, he saw scenarios and places, making notes of what girls found romantic, and went as far as checking bridal magazines. Nothing seemed good enough. Nothing seemed special. Nothing seemed worthy of Ryouta.

They go to parks. They make a small trip to Yokohama. Wherever they go, Yukio takes the small box with him, hoping fate might present him a golden moment on a silver platter. Nothing of the sorts happens. The longer he waits, the more the scenarios in his head darken. Instead of seeing rosy coloured images, he starts wondering if Ryouta would even say yes. Maybe all sorts of planning and working, the months he put his back into making extra money, everything would be for naught if Ryouta wouldn’t even want to marry him. 

The box becomes heavier by the day.

 

All the worry shows on Yukio more than usual. Ryouta catches his scowls and tries to make him smile, kissing him more often on the cheek, then going straight for the mouth. They shower together, brush their teeth, and Ryouta hugs him from behind. The blond kisses his brows, kisses the small part in between, telling him to say if he has a bad day. It worsens Yukio’s mood, who starts to wonder when the hell his confidence and guts went down the drain.

On one morning which is so alike every other normal day, he has enough. Ryouta made another brave attempt at breakfast, handing Yukio a coffee which is way too mild. They’re sitting at the table, and Yukio grinds his teeth at the taste, putting his cup down.

“What the hell is this bullshit, Ryouta? How much water did you use!?”

“Ah, sorry! I followed the instructions, but senpai makes his coffee stronger, right!? I am so sorry.” He laughs and the sun weakens because the brightness Yukio is confronted with shines brighter than any star in this universe. “You don’t have to drink it, I’ll put it away and make a new batch!”

Ryouta’s hand brushes Yukio’s, then takes the cup from his hand. Yukio looks up to the moron who, after all this time, can’t even make coffee. He had announced so proudly how he’d make Yukio breakfast, and how his senpai wouldn’t have to worry. ‘You can stay in bed, senpai! You’ve been working so hard. Let me do it!’ And now he sillies away with burned toast, half-assed cut ham, semi-cold miso-soup. When Ryouta makes a move to stand up, still apologizing, and Yukio catches his hand holding the cup.

The coffee spills over the most imperfect breakfast this table has ever seen, and while the mess becomes worse and worse, Yukio knows one thing. He wouldn’t want to spend a morning without this idiot, and he wouldn’t exchange this sort of craziness for anything else. The way Ryouta is, the way they are, each and every flaw is too perfect to even put it into words.

“Wait, you idiot- I mean.” Yukio still holds his hand, not letting Ryouta move who wants to clean up, apologizes more, but Yukio tells him to shut up and sit down. When Ryouta does, Yukio uses his free hand and pulls the box out of his pants. He holds it under the table for just a second, watching the knocked over cup spill the last bit of coffee. The mess is too good for words, but he has to use some now, if he wants to keep Ryouta.

“Oi, Ryouta. Will you marry me?” The smoothest thing this morning is how Yukio opens up the velvet box with his thumb, presenting the gold band and it’s tiny blue gems to Ryouta. A few seconds go by in which Ryouta looks at him, stares down the inside of the box, then looks back up at Yukio as if he became a ghost. The hand holding Ryouta’s wrist begins to sweat, and fear unlike anything else runs down Yukio’s spine. Maybe he should have bought a fancy suit. Maybe he should have made a reservation in a restaurant. Read up on fine wines, come up with a cool way to ask this particular hard question.

Nothing can be done about it now, while he waits for Ryouta to open his mouth and say _something_.

“Sen...pai. Eh… I don’t understand- ehh!?” Ryouta looks down to the golden ring, his eyes watering. His shoulders start to shake too, and Yukio thinks it was all a terrible mistake. Maybe they’re too young, maybe Ryouta isn’t ready. Maybe he should’ve put more thought into this… Grumbling and looking away, self-loathing making his insides churn. Yukio is about to take his words back, when a hand grasps his.

“Of course! Of- yes, yes I do!” Ryouta lets go of his hand, only to stand up, let the chair fall behind him, and jump over the breakfast table.

“St-stupid, watch out, HEY!” Yukio can’t hardly react when the food goes flying and Ryouta’s knees slide over the spilled coffee. He has to hold his arms wide and receive a lap full of way too many flailing limbs, and keeping this large bastard from toppling them over. Arms go around his neck, and loud cry enters his ears. Ryouta is beside himself.

“Yes, I want to, so much! Uwaaa, I can’t believe this is happening!” Ryouta’s feet hit the ground and it takes all of Yukio’s strength to keep the chair they’re sitting on together now from giving out under the weight. Ryouta’s moving does nothing to stop that, though. It takes Yukio to hold him, his other hand limp and useless under the weight of the ring. He feels like it finally crushed his palm and keeps the back of his hand glued to the table. 

“Goddamnit, Kise! Get off me already.” 

“Never, senpai!” Ryouta sits back, his hands on Yukio’s shoulders, and tears streaming down his face. He looks so ugly when he cries, yet Yukio can’t help loving how lines of tears roll over rosy cheeks and a wobbly smile. It reminds him of when they lost to Touou, and to Seirin. However the feeling in his chest right is the exact opposite of what they experienced on those days.

Ryouta turns around to take the wedding box from Yukio’s hand, who, at last, is unburdened. Whatever Ryouta is babbling about goes straight past him. His ears hear a single white noise while he watches Ryouta’s happy face, gushing over the ring and putting it on immediately. When he sees the gold around Ryouta’s finger, Yukio’s ears become red and functional again.

“Senpai, how even… this is the perfect fit. Wow, so cool! Can I wear it all day? I can, right?”

“St-stupid, you’re supposed to wear it for the rest of your life, remember!? But only after the ceremony, I think.” Yukio doesn’t know. He only has brothers, and none of them have married themselves yet. His parents married before he was born. Moriyama never told much of the particulars as he only gushed about his wife. Yukio knows _nothing_ of the procedure.

Somehow none of that matters when Ryouta kisses him. He tastes salt and warmth, a rowdy mess wiggling on his lap. Ryouta holds his face, and Yukio can’t believe there’s any better feel on this world than that ring touching his skin. The fingers comb through his hair, a little on the wild side. When they part, Ryouta stops crying, peering into Yukio’s eyes as if he can’t believe what just happened. Yukio can’t really, either.

“Let’s do it.”

“Are you an idiot? We have work-”

“We’ll go in late. I want to have sex with my fiancee, now. Where’s your ring? You have one too, for sure. Put it on and let’s go back to bed, Yukio.”

Against better judgement, Yukio brushes at Ryouta’s face, trying to clean the wet mess. His hands drop to Ryouta’s back and a little below that, admitting defeat. On top of having a table to clean, and the calls to be made, Yukio would also need to make edible breakfast. They have to inform their families, a whole freaking wedding to plan. Moriyama must be informed, as well as the rest of the team, whom they never told anything about them in the first place. Joy fills Yukio’s chest, and it spreads to every fiber in his body, down to his toes and his fingertips. He doesn’t mind to have such a sex-happy boyfriend, or to listen to his suggestion.

“Fine. Yeah, okay, whatever you want.” Yukio isn’t allowed to look away, as Ryouta resumes kissing his face and mouth. Instead, he lifts Ryouta in his arms, making his way to the bedroom. Long legs curl around him, and they don’t stop kissing until Yukio lets Ryouta fall back on the bed, which is still warm. Looking into Ryouta’s golden eyes, Yukio has to make himself breathe, make himself believe what he just did, what he just asked, and to what Ryouta agreed to. It’s a silent moment away from the normal daily activities, a silence to be broken by their loudness in a moment. It’s immobile, impenetrable, a peace Yukio didn’t know he could feel at all.

Ryouta manages to get the second band meant for Yukio, and put it around his ring finger. Yukio looks at it, his fingers linking with Ryouta’s, moving to see each of the rings. He realizes this is what he will wake up to, and fall asleep to, now and forever.

“Say it again.”

“What, senpai?”

“Don’t pretend, Ryouta. You now what.” Yukio hates to blush and wills his cheeks from calming the hell down. Ryouta laughs through it, a sound so pure and sweet that Yukio doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Yukio-senpai, and I will marry you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hannah, you're one of my best friends and that there's a freaking ocean between us (and 900 euro plane tickets Dx) is a fucking shame. I hope that one day we'll be filthy rich and can visit each other on birthdays (or plan trips around the world/your big ass country). For now, line messages, skype calls, twitter and fics will have to suffice. I wish you a good one, sweety!! Keep on rocking you marvelous flawless doll ovo!


End file.
